


echoes through your bones

by orphan_account



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Fantasizing, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jesper's pining for a man who doesn't need him anymore.
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen/Klaus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	echoes through your bones

Christmas was months ago, but Jesper remembers it like it was yesterday. Remembers him like it was yesterday.  
It was near 4 am when Jesper awoke with a start to the sounds of jingling bells and something making quite a racket on his roof. His aching body, stiff and sore from delivering the few gifts he’d managed to make in time for that year’s delivery, scrambled out of bed and into the living room. 

And he saw Klaus, standing there, his woodsman-  
only now he was just a bit younger and just a smidge more ethereal than the last time he saw him. 

He was something new now, something more than just a man who built and delivered toys. He was childlike wonder and holiday joy personified- and he didn’t need Jesper anymore.  
That realization left a wound inside him that hasn’t stopped hurting, hasn’t started healing, every day it’s just as fresh and stinging as the last.  
Klaus had put his hands on him, embraced him and told him how proud he was of what Jesper accomplished. But Jesper didn’t feel proud, he’d fallen into a pit of one-part despair and one-part self-pitying after Klaus left. Left him. Went off into the afterlife, or Heaven, or wherever the hell to become some kind of a mythical being with his wife. His wife. He’s sure they’re happy together, reunited, leaving him behind worried to death and utterly lost without the man he’d come to think of as home. 

Sometimes he swears he smells the familiar scent of wood resin and smoke and fresh baked pastries. And suddenly he’s in the workshop again, Klaus by his side radiating more warmth than the fireplace and laughing so deeply it reverberates in Jasper's chest. That’s home. He’d give anything to go back to that time. 

He thinks of Klaus’s hand’s often, usually after having one of these episodes of self-pity.  
Big enough to span his entire torso but skilled enough to carve the finest of details, he feels the weight of them on his back, warm and heavy and offering just the right amount of gentle pressure when Klaus would pat him on the back proudly after a long day of deliveries. 

He curls tighter around the pillow he’s got a death grip on and shivers. It’s too early in the day for this, he’s got work in an hour, and yet he doesn’t stop his mind from wandering further.  
He remembers the things he’d told him in a rush on that fateful Christmas eve. How he would be doing all the toy delivering from now on, and that he’d gotten a few interesting abilities to aid him. He was able to conjure toys from thin air, and fly faster than a shooting star, and see whether children were naughty or nice. 

In that moment they’d laughed because of the absurdity of it all, but Jesper desperately wanted to ask him where he fit in to his new, extraordinary life. 

Oh, and now came his favorite part of the memory. Klaus had stopped laughing and suddenly, like flipping a switch, dropped his voice several octaves and said teasingly, “I can keep track of my favorite Postman, too, so don’t think you can act up while I’m not here.” And he finished with a wink and a sparkle in his eyes. 

Jesper knew he’d meant it in a lighthearted way, but that didn’t stop his mind from going haywire. 

He gripped the pillow harder, straddling it now, and canted his hips till his cock pressed up against it.  
Fuck.  
It was so hard it ached and twitched against his boxers but he ignored it, he hated these memories and thinking of his best friend like this. Hated remembering the sound of his voice and most of all, hated himself. God, this is fucked up. What’s wrong with you?  
He didn’t have an answer. He just buried his head into the mattress and hissed with relief when he finally relented and ground his hips into it once, twice, writhing when the rough fabric caught on the head of his cock. 

He remembers the days they spent on Mogen’s boat, presents in tow, northern lights above them. Just alone together under the cold arctic sky, but neither of them notices the cold. He imagines Klaus’s hand resting on his thigh, sliding higher and higher till he comes to cup Jesper’s erection through his pants. And then he would beg the woodsman, and he would give him everything and more.  
Returning to reality, he spreads his legs and palms himself, thrusting against the touch with such desperation it frightens him.  
He hopes with every fiber of his being that Klaus is out there, watching him come undone. He doesn’t care if this would ruin their friendship, not in the throws of it, he never has.

Like the conceited man he is, he makes a show out of it. Pulls his cock out slowly till it springs out from Its confines, glistening with precum. 

Jesper would like to think of himself as… well endowed. But really he’s just about average, with more length and less girth, and a slight curve to the left. That train of thought quickly leads back to Klaus.  
It almost too much to think about. His cock. He already has enough trouble just thinking about the man’s hands for God’s sake.  
He squeezes his eyes shut, pumps his cock faster despite the friction, and imagines he’s jacking off Klaus instead. He can almost feel it, hot and twitching and too big for him to even wrap a hand around.

But he’d be able to fit his mouth around it, as much as he could bare.  
And Klaus would keep a hand around his skull and hold him there until he came down his throat. 

The scenario is so vivid in his head that he can feel the warmth in the hollow of his throat. 

He tightens his fist and moans into the fabric of his sleeve he’s currently biting into

Please.  
He begs to this figment of his imagination-  
please think of me. 

Then the Klaus in his head grabs him by the chin, softly, drags him up till their faces are inches away and he can smell warm cider on his breath. 

And he kisses him. 

Jesper stops breathing, wants to scream but theres no air in his lungs to do so

He comes, boneless and deep, spurting over his writhing stomach for what feels like an eternity.

He keeps his eyes screwed shut for as long as he can, breathing in the scent of warm spice and sap and he can’t bare to let it go. 

Can’t let the reality of what he did rush back in. 

Can’t be faced with an empty bed.


End file.
